Down for the Count
by ButterflyPages
Summary: Don't make any important decisions when in pain or ecstasy. It is too late for Olivia who does just that. She enters into a life-altering unholy alliance with Fitzgerald Grant who has come to her museum to investigate the loss of an important manuscript. Will she be able to go back? Will she want to?
1. Stranger than Fiction

**Chapter 1**

**Stranger than Fiction**

"My ass is grass," said Olivia. There was a frantic quality to her voice. She rifled through every crevice of her office at the museum where she worked as a curator. "I know it was here, Stacia. I signed it out from Special Collections and brought it to my office. When I left the office, I locked it in my desk drawer."

Stacia looked worriedly at her friend and co-worker as she watched her crawling around on the floor in her tailored crème skirt suit and heels. "Liv, honey, it's going to be fine. This won't be the first time someone has misplaced a rare piece from this museum. It is unfortunate that today is your last day, though. I wonder if Patrick is going to take it out of your salary. You would end up owing _the museum_! Or they could take your ass to court. Oh, Liv, your ass _is_ grass!" Stacia agreed, joining Liv on the floor in the search.

Olivia fell against the wall, legs splayed open with her head resting in her hands.

"Liv, where did you get those garters and stockings. They are hella hot. Marcus would give me the business if I wore those for him!" Stacia said.

"La Perla. Seriously, Stacia! Get your eyes off my ass and help me up. I need to find that damn book pronto," she said, stretching out her hand for assistance.

"What is the name of this lost book?" Stacia said, grasping her hand and pulling Olivia to her feet.

Olivia glanced at the large portrait hanging on the wall across from her desk. The figure in the painting was unknown to her, although she'd done research to identify the man in the portrait. When she found it in the bowels of the museum's underground storage unit, she felt drawn to those eyes. Unable to resist, she had taken it from storage and had it relocated to her office. The eyes belonged to the impeccably dressed man in a black suit circa 15th century. A red-lined cape hung around his shoulders. His gaze was arresting, so much so that she would stare at if for long stretches when she was in her office alone. She felt hot when she thought about the other things she would do under the gaze of those eyes.

"Earth to Liv. What the hell are you looking at?" Stacia said. She followed Liv's gaze to the portrait on the wall. "Oh, it's the hot Dracula looking dude. That painting makes me feel strange. I don't know why you brought it here. There is a reason they put it away."

Stacia's words broke the hold the painting had on Olivia. "_Vlad Dracul's Delight,"_ Olivia said.

"What?" said Stacia.

"The book…you asked for the name of the book. That's it, _Vlad Dracul's Delight_," Olivia said as she sat down in her plush office chair.

"Sounds like some trashy romance novel." Stacia had a seat too.

"I hope I don't regret telling you this, Stacia. But today is my last day. I won't have to endure your relentless teasing. I have to tell someone or…I'm going to go out of my mind," Olivia said.

"You're cheating on Byron aren't you! I knew it. You've walked around the museum all smiles lately. I know you're moving to California to marry your brilliant technogeek, but you've been engaged forever and you've never been this giddy. Spill it sister! It has to be someone at the museum. It shouldn't be hard to narrow down the contestants. Is it Robert in Acquisitions or Omar in Development?" Stacia said.

"Stacia, No! Stop calling Byron that," Olivia demanded with a chuckle. "You know I'm really going to miss you. Listen to me and don't interrupt. I think…no. I know…that painting is possessed or haunted because—"

"No shit, Sherlock!" Stacia interrupted in a forceful stage whisper. "Look at his eyes. It's like they are following you. I don't know how you stay here working late into the night with those eyes. Gives me the shakes."

"Stacia, shut up and listen. I think the painting is haunted because…How can I say this…most every night when I'm here working late…I can't believe I'm telling you this but, I'm…um…well…"

"Stop beating around the bush, Liv. Spill it."

"That first night it was up in my office something…happened. I was sitting here working on a project and I heard this voice call my name. It was crazy because I knew it was a real voice. I also knew no one was on this floor with me. I thought it might be the custodians working late. I stopped working and really listened. I looked up at the painting…and…and…I couldn't stop looking at his eyes. All of a sudden, I started having…sexual thoughts about…him…the man in the painting-".

"Like what?" Stacia said.

"Like me and him…prone...so, but that's not important…All the overhead lights went out in the office except for my desk lamp. I tried to get up to check on it but I couldn't move. I just stared at the damn painting...into his eyes." Olivia noticed Stacia's saucer like eyes and how her mouth was slack. It was a funny sight.

"In that moment Stacia, I got so….hot and bothered in a way that I've never been before. It was uncomfortable. So I…I um…um…sort of did myself…but I had help? I know it sounds crazy."

Stacia jerked her head to one side, but Olivia continued.

"I unbuttoned my blouse. I unclasped my bra. I cupped my breasts, and I swear it felt like they were being…sucked. Then I felt these unseen hands spreading my thighs. They felt like hands, warm and strong…I pulled off my underwear and my legs lifted on their own to prop up on the arms of this very chair. Then it actually felt like someone or something was going down on me, I mean epically so. I came once and then again all the while looking at those eyes. I know it was him doing it, Stacia. When I came for the third time, I saw this smirk on his lips. It went away as soon as I saw it. And then it was over. I was sure I had dreamed it all because everything was back to normal. My first thought was that I was missing Byron. He's been away for like 3 weeks. But…when I got up to leave, I noticed…I saw..."

"What, Liv, what?"

Olivia winced. "My chair was damp in the center. I smelled it and…it was it was real. It had happened. I know that's gross, but that was my only evidence."

Stacia sat there looking at her, mouth open for a full 15 seconds before she spoke. "O-livia, damn, you should write that down. Are you saying that you spend all your nights here masturbating to this painting?" Stacia said. "Can I borrow it?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "No. I was not masturbating. It…him…the man in the painting was doing it to _me_. I've done little experiments to test it. Sometimes, when I get that feeling, I'll turn away from the painting or I'll squeeze my legs together or cross them. Nothing works. It doesn't matter. That feeling just overtakes me and I start writhing around like Christina Ricci in "Black Snake Moan." It feels divine...or wicked and delicious. I've never had orgasms like that. I feel the release all over…like even on my scalp…my ear lobe…my arm pit…"

"Okay, Liv. I get it…well, I don't get it…like that…I wish I did, but…"

"I talked to the painting last night. I told it…him I couldn't do it anymore. I thanked him, though. This morning there was a slip of paper on my desk with a message. It said, 'Vlad Dracul's Delight.' I didn't know what it meant at first. I thought it was a note from Patrick to research. I googled it and discovered that it's a book. Wikipedia said that it is housed here at our museum. I found it in Special Collections and checked it out. Thank God it was the English version. It's a biography of Vlad Dracul. I put it in my desk and locked it inside. After I returned from running an errand, I can't find it. My desk was still locked. No one else has a key."

"What does the book have to do with your painting sexcapades?"

"Ha, Ha. Good one, Stace. I have a theory. The guy in the painting somehow took the book. He is playing games with me."

"Oliva Pope. This is just plain weird. First, the creepy painting is causing you to masturbate. Second, it...he stole a book because you plan to stop sexing yourself up in front of him. Please don't tell Patrick this story. It would be a good plot for a porno if pornos had plots, but…" Stacia said before she started laughing at Olivia.

"This is not funny. It is real. Just because it involves…sex doesn't mean you can trivialize it—"

"It involves more than sex, Liv. You say the painting is practically raping you, right…or making you rape yourself. Just tell Patrick you lost the book and call it a day. Be thankful for your total body orgasms and-"

A single knock on the door startled them both. When the door opened, Patrick walked inside.

"Olivia, From the looks of it, you haven't found the book." Patrick said.

Olivia stood, a little taken aback and a great deal, afraid. "No, Patrick, but I feel it's here somewhere…in my office," Olivia answered, glancing quickly at the painting.

"It's just as well. When you reported it missing, I had to follow protocol due to the rare quality of the manuscript. Protocol states that I notify a representative of the family that owns the museum. Whenever this particular book is in peril, the family requests notification," Patrick explained.

"You told them I lost it? What happens now?" Olivia

"They will send someone to investigate the loss. You have nothing to be afraid of, Liv. The book was rare, but it doesn't compare to all their other holdings. Be thankful it wasn't anything in our main collection. The investigator will have some questions. I recommend you tell them the truth. You misplaced it at the office. We will continue to search for it. That is the truth, correct?" Patrick said.

Patrick's two-way radio lit up and a static laden voice sounded. "Mr. Mullholland, A...um...Mr. Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III is here." There was an unsettled tinge to the receptionist's voice.

"Thanks Sharon. I'll come to collect him now." Patrick said.

"There is no need for that," a deep, silky male voice said in the background. "I'll come to you."

Olivia's body reacted to that voice. It was a familiar voice. It enveloped her like a cloak.

"I better get going," said Stacia, "Liv, don't leave before seeing me. I have something for you."

"Okay, Stacia," Olivia said.

"Patrick, who is that?"

"It is the representative from the Grant Historical Society."

"He is the one they sent to investigate?" Olivia said. She was getting nervous. It's almost 5. Today is my last day. Can they do it another day? I will come back. "

"Don't be nervous. Be thankful that you're getting it over now. You'll have to answer a few questions. I'm sure the family will simply write it off."

Suddenly Olivia felt the hairs on her arm stand on end. And then he was standing there in the threshold of her office door. When she saw him, her heart stopped. _It's you, _she thought. The man in the painting who had somehow coerced her into such states of ecstasy stood mere feet away, a mirror image of the man in the painting. He wore the identical suit except without the cape. She felt hot liquid pool between her legs.

_It's me in the flesh_. Olivia heard his answer in her mind.

* * *

**Greetings Penpals!**

**I luv this story for obvious reasons. Bear with me as I try to get the re-edited first chapters of all my stories back up. Aren't we all down for the Count, though? :-)**

**Hope you enjoyed this one. **

**~~BP**


	2. Return to Me

**Chapter 2**

**Return to Me**

* * *

Rowan sprinted through the dank dark wood. It was minutes after the witching hour. By sheer force of his power, the trees parted their branches and spindly vines for him, making his path clear. An aerial view of his journey would present quite the spectacle, someone playing dominoes with the tall trees. But this was not a game, and there were no onlookers, only a man on a mission to prevent what was taking place at this very moment. He had to stop her. He had to stop the ritual.

When he reached the clearing, he stopped short. He could smell the water, feel it breathing in front of him. With a flick of both wrists, he returned the trees to their original state. Each tree branch and vine snapped back to attention causing a cacophony of claps and snaps. Rowan hoped it sounded like lightening and thunder so as not to arouse more suspicion amongst his nosey neighbors.

He looked in the direction of the white light that hovered over the lake and walked forward until it was in full view. To the ignorant observer, the light appeared as moonlight reflecting on the surface of the water, but he knew better. He sprinted to the water's edge and waded in. Once he was fully submerged, he began his search for the portal opening to Maya's den. He moved slowly so that she would not be alerted to his presence. Thankfully the elements involved in her ritual gave off enough energy to illuminate the lake floor. This was not a regular lake. It held no flora or fauna. It wasn't muddy or full of organisms. From the surface it appeared as any body of water. Below the surface, the water was translucent and the bottom was made of the clearest glass. The lake was an abyss and aberration with the intent of deceiving anyone who happened by. Rowan maneuvered through its clear depths in search of a seam on the bottom. It was only a matter of time before he found the door, but he was running out of time. Thankfully Maya had set no traps. Finally, after his second pass around the lake bottom, he saw a small seam. He looked at it intently until the triangular shaped door came into view. After he stripped off all his clothes and stood before it, he placed both palms, one on top of the other, in the center of the triangle. He took a deep breath causing his lungs to fill with water. He meditated on the chant. It was impossible to speak it because he was submerged underwater with his lungs filling quickly:

_Oray ishi fignyu_

_Et velruai catharum_

_Ishi veltai catharum_

_Et velruai catharum_

_Oray ishi fignyu_

After meditating on the chant three times, there was a rumble and the door gave way under Rowan's hands. It turned, opening just enough to fit his body through the crevice. He knew what was coming so he braced himself for the pain. Rowan was trapped between the door's opening and surrounding wall. A force pushed him inside crushing him between both surfaces. Even though the pain was excruciating, it was necessary to push the water from his lungs so he could breathe when he reached the other side. He bore down against the pain and after what seemed like an eternity, he fell to the floor on the other side.

Rowan pushed himself up on his knees and then to his feet. The woody smell of alder mixed with other earthy scents assailed his nostrils. Alder was a root used in divination. He ran through the dark tunnel. The smell became more pungent as he got closer to the grand event. When he came to a grand room, he saw his wife, Maya, kneeling there in the center with a raised chalice in her hand. She was naked except for a small loin cloth around her waist adorned with cowrie shells. She kneeled before an altar filled with fruit and the carcass of some animal unknown animal. On either side of the altar were two thrones for the deities to sit when she called them forth. She began to sway back and forth and side to side. She began her own chant. Some unseen force lifted her above the floor while she continued to sway and chant. Rowan took action.

He extended his hands to the chalice causing it to come out of Maya's hand and shatter against the wall. The deep red blood stain flowed down the wall.

"Ishi sole ishi destra," he said, causing the altar and any other contents in the room to engulf in flames. He ran to Maya and caught her in his arms before she fell to the floor. The power fueling her levitation was now broken.

"Loi sole ishi extrastra," he said. Water swirled around his feet, growing into a whirlpool that lifted and extended far above them. Rowan squeezed her tight in his arms for protection as they sailed through the tunnel created by the water. They burst through the den and far above the lake until they landed at the clearing just at the edge of the dark wood.

The lake was no more. In its place was a large expanse of charred earth still smoldering. Rowan planned to return later to clean it up, but now he needed to attend to his wife who was unconscious in his arms.

* * *

Maya woke without the expected soreness in her limbs. There was always soreness after a spellbinding ritual. She couldn't remember much of anything past the beginning of the ritual. She was in bed. Rowan sat on the bed looking down at her.

"Wa-Water," she said.

Rowan reached for the glass of water on the table. He lifted her up so she could drink. She guzzled the entire glass all at once. It was just water, but her body sprang to life. She moved away from him and propped herself up on the bed.

Rowan looked relieved, then his face took on a familiar anger. "How long have you been planning this? By the looks of the lake and the den, I'd say about a year."

Maya tried to maintain her composure, but it was difficult. "Yes, and you destroyed it all in the blink of an eye. He's found her again, Rowan. I had to do this to save her from him."

Rowan caught one of the tears streaming from her eyes. "Oh Maya, who is going to save Olivia from you?"

"What do you mean by that? I would never do anything to hurt Olivia. She is our precious daughter and the only girl child we have. That monster-"

"Don't start that nonsense, Maya!" Rowan jerked to his feet. "I will not listen to you spew your hatred against that boy and his kind. This obsession of yours has led you to imprison our daughter for over a century. It has been six lifetimes since I've spoken to her such that she knows who I am, who she is, and what she is. You were so intent on preventing their union…preventing her from being turned and for what? Yes, he's found her this seventh time. I refuse to let you interfere, Maya. I want to be in Olivia's life again."

Maya sat up in the bed with that familiar crazed look in her eyes when she spoke on this subject. "But Rowan, it's not my fault that the ritual went wrong back then. How was I to know she was going to fight back or that the Orisha would punish us for-"

"The Orisha made it clear that we were banned from spellbinding rituals until Olivia's 7th iteration was complete. So I don't understand why you were in that den in the throes of a ritual!" Rowan's anger was rising. The lights flickered in response.

Maya ignored it and continued. "When I got word that he was close to finding her this seventh time, I discovered a way to lift the curse while separating them forever. The ritual you destroyed was going to unbind them forever and restore what he changed."

"This is going to destroy our family if you don't leave it alone. There is no way around the curse. It has taken its course and will be done shortly unless you continue dabbling in the affairs of the Orishas." Rowan sat back on the bed and grabbed her shoulders. "Wife, listen to me and listen good. I have accepted this obsession of yours because I know the origin of it. No matter how much you deny it, I know you possess strong feelings for that boy's father…for Victor. You've never forgiven him for the past and that hatred lives on and has taken new life. You've clutched on to Victor even in your hatred of him. You bound our offspring and his offspring together. Maya, this is your fault. I know…you…you won't stop so I will stop you."

Rowan pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. "I love you, Maya. This is for your own good and the good of our daughter." Maya struggled against him. "Rowan? Rowan? What are you-?"

"Tomas! Anjel!" Rowan summoned the guards. They entered the bedroom and stood flanking the door.

Maya glanced around in confusion and then fear. "Rowan? What is this?"

"I'm sending you to the catacombs until Olivia is free of this curse. You will be well taken care of, but you will not be able to exercise any of your power during the duration. This is-"

Maya's face turned to stone. "How dare you? You can't," she screamed. She balled up her fist and extended it to Rowan. He ducked and the ball of fire sailing straight for him, but it landed on the thick velvet drapes. The bed rose from its claw-footed posts and started to spin around. Rowan grabbed the comforter and snatched it to him with such speed that Maya flew across the room and into his arms. He held her to him and looked directly into her eyes. Within seconds she had gone limp.

"Take her to the catacombs. I will be there shortly to get her settled in."

Tomas took Maya from Rowan's grip. "Be careful with her. She shouldn't wake up, but one of you must stand guard in case she does. Administer the tincture immediately if she wakes. After what I've witnessed in this life, you should never trust anything 100 percent, least of all anything that promises to absolutely subdue my wife."

Maya wanted to laugh at that remark, but she would reveal her consciousness. Her husband knew her very well. She might be paralyzed now, but within a couple of hours, she would disembowel these two goons and be on her way to save her daughter from the likes of that monster.

* * *

"Mr. Mullholland, it is a distinct pleasure to make your acquaintance," Fitzgerald said. He looked away from Olivia and faced Patrick who extended his hand in greeting. When Fitzgerald didn't take his hand, he let it fall back to his side."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Grant. Welcome to the High Museum of Art. I would be honored to give you a tour at this time."

"And who might you be?" Fitzgerald addressed Stacia who was standing there with her mouth open.

Olivia glanced at her friend and felt sorry for her since this was the first time she had been under his direct gaze. It could be intimidating.

"Stacia…" Olivia said in an effort to help her.

"Umm…my name is, you know…I'm Stacia Max-Maxwell."

"And Ms. Maxwell? In what department do you work?"

"Um...I…I…you know…I am, you know…the Director of Member Services."

If Olivia's adrenaline wasn't coursing through her veins as if she stood before a Bengal tiger, she would be laughing at Stacia and her, 'you knows' which only came out when she was extremely nervous.

"Mr. Mullholland and Ms. Maxwell…it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I need to speak with Ms. Pope, now, alone.

Olivia liked the lilt of his voice. There was a slight accent that showed up around the vowels. He sounded formal and elegant.

"Very well, Mr. Grant. I'll leave you two alone. Olivia, please check in with me when you are done. I'd love to talk with you as well, Mr. Grant," Patrick said.

Stacia finally came back to life. She glanced at Olivia and mouthed, 'Wow.'

"Good evening," said Fitzgerald.

Stacia and Patrick took that as their cue to leave the room. Had Olivia been able, she would have seen Stacia motion for her to call her later. However, she could not stop staring at this strange man. He stood facing her, separated by an arm's length. His eyes were a deep, glacial blue.

"As always, Olivia, it is a pleasure to be with you."

Olivia didn't respond. She was trying to figure it all out. How was the man in the painting now standing before her? Why hadn't Stacia and Patrick noticed that he was the same man in the painting? Why did she have the overwhelming urge to rip off her clothes and lie spread eagle on her desk right there before him?

"Because we are involved, Olivia. It has been so long since we've made love. I am weak with hunger for you."

_Did he just answer my thoughts?_

Olivia took deeper breaths so as to calm herself, but it was not working. She closed her eyes, but the vision she saw made her gasp. It was the two of them naked and sweaty moving against each other. He made a move to step forward.

"Stop!" she said, throwing up her hand, "Don't come any closer, please."

He took a step back. "Please have a seat, Mr. Grant. I don't know what is going on here, but you need to take a seat."

He sat in the armchair facing her desk. Olivia would have asked to take his coat, but she felt uneasy about him undressing at all in her presence.

She sat at her desk, thankful for the separation. "First things first, Mr. Grant. Let's deal with why you are here. There is the issue of the book I misplaced-"

"I am here for you, Olivia. You and you only. The book was a mere pretense. The time is far spent. We need to leave before…before…. We need to leave." Olivia didn't like the way he sounded. His voice was cold and his words, ominous.

"Mr. Grant, I have no idea what you are talking about. You are here because I could not find-"

"Look in your desk drawer."

Olivia frowned at him. She opened her desk drawer, and the book was there, sitting where she had placed it."

"Is this some kind of last day on the job prank? Are you pretending to be the man in the painting?" she said. Olivia was angry now. "You know what? Please just leave."

"The man in what painting?" he said.

"The one right over there.." Olivia pointed to the wall. There was a painting there, but it was, _The Starry Night_.

"But it was just there…"

"Olivia, my darling, I need you. You need me. It's been…too long."

"Could you stop saying that, you pervert? Someone is liable to hear you."

Fitz flung his hand back toward the door. It shut and then locked on its own accord.

"What did you? How did you?" Olivia said. She looked between him and the door and then shook her head from side to side, "You need to leave. I don't know what you did to get me to do those things…but…you need to leave."

"By things do you mean all those nights you pleasured yourself in that chair? I didn't make you do anything. You never liked to masturbate unless I watched, Olivia. Since I couldn't come for you until today, I thought I would have some enjoyment as a greeting of sorts." Fitzgerald was standing now. Olivia didn't remember seeing him stand.

"Who in the hell are you? You don't know anything about me and you come in here…"

"I have a small wager for you." He walked around the desk. She was now standing too. She didn't remember standing.

"What?"

"I'll bet you one kiss that you can't sit with me for one minute without pleasuring yourself."

"Of all the twisted…You must think I'm some sort of sex-crazed freak, but-"

He grabbed her hand. Something popped against her skin as if she had been shocked. She snatched her hand back. "You're right. I can't touch you until you give me permission." He didn't try to touch her again, but he didn't move back. He looked at her with an expression she could only understand as adoring.

"Olivia, I think no such thing. Let's just sit, okay? If you win the bet, I'll leave. Do we have a deal?"

Ready to be done with this peculiar ordeal, Olivia nodded. _When am I going to wake up? This has to be a dream. All I have to do is not masturbate? That's easy enough. _

Olivia saw him grin. _It's like he can read my thoughts._

_Olivia, trust me. _

"What did you say?" She heard his voice in her thoughts again.

"Nothing. I _said_, nothing."

Before she could respond, he carried her office chair around her desk and set it directly in front of his. "Do you mind if I remove my coat?"

"Fine." But it wasn't fine for Olivia. He not only removed his coat, but also his suit jacket. He walked back to her wearing a black vest over a crisp white shirt and black trousers. For some reason, that vest was too much. She was starting to feel uncomfortable.

He sat down before her and the torture began. He held no expression, really. He just looked at her with those deep, glacial blue eyes. He squared his shoulders, making him seem big and boxy in the chair. He crossed his legs in the way that men do, foot propped on knee. One hand rested on his knee and the other on his thigh.

Olivia felt small in her chair. Her legs were crossed and her arms were crossed over her chest. Her shoulders and head were bowed slightly. She glanced at the clock. _How long has it been? We must be close to a minute._

_No, it's been 15 seconds._

She scowled at him, but did not take her eyes away. _I can do this. _Olivia took a deep breath and stared. Shortly, she felt the silence in the room except for their breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Her eyes began to roam around his face.

Inhale.

His thick mat of dark hair…

Exhale.

His square jaw…

Inhale.

The ridge of his nose…

Exhale.

The grin on his face…

Inhale.

When her eyes came open, she realized they had been closed. That was not all. While she remained dressed, she was anything but decent. Her heeled feet were propped on the edge of her office chair and her thighs were spread in a way that had forced her skirt up her thighs. She was leaning back in the office chair with one arm clutching the back. Her other hand was inside the waistband of her panties.

Olivia had no thoughts or words only acknowledgement before she pushed her hand to its intended target between her legs.

"Ah…" When fingers met the swollen, wet, pulsating flesh between her legs all she could do was moan. The knowledge that this strange man sat so close while she did this to herself, emboldened her.

She closed her eyes and caressed her opening with two fingers, then three, and then four. From the hood of her clitoris to the bottom of her opening, she massaged. She increased the pressure to create more friction and started to feel that feeling like she was going to break open. By now she was writhing around in the chair like she was in pain, but she was feeling the opposite. She was moaning loudly now.

"Inside," he said.

She stuck all four fingers inside and ground them against herself as fast as she could. Finally she felt the sensation she was looking for. She gripped the chair and rode it to the end.

Olivia didn't know how many minutes had passed when she opened her eyes. Fitzgerald was still sitting in his chair staring at her. Her thighs hurt. She couldn't move them because her high heels were stuck in the chair. She pulled her arm around and moved her hand from between her legs. Fitzgerald pulled one and then the other high-heeled foot from the chair. Their knees touched. Olivia couldn't look at him. Her eyes settled on his lap and the big bulge there. She looked back at him.

"May I?" he asked.

Olivia nodded, but she didn't know what she was agreeing to.

He reached forward and took her hand. This was the one she had used to massage herself. He pressed her fingers to his nose and breathed in her scent. Inhale. Exhale. Then he sucked each finger one at a time.

"May I kiss you now?"

Olivia nodded again.

Olivia was sure about only one thing: Her absolute willingness to allow this man to do whatever he pleased with her body.

He pulled her over to him and took her lips in an all consuming kiss. He felt good against her sweaty body. He was coolness to her heat, hardness to her softness.

"Do you accept me into your life, Olivia?" he whispered into her ear.

She opened her eyes and gasped in shock. No longer was she on his lap. Instead, they were sitting on top of her desk, in the center of the room, completely naked. It was surreal. They were surrounded by a ring of fire casting soft shadows against their skin and the surfaces in the room. She sat on his lap, facing him with her legs straddling his waist. His turgid manhood pressed against her stomach like a hot poker. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw it, unsure if she could take it all in. _I'm going to give it my best try._

Fitzgerald chuckled, "Answer my question, Olivia. You have to accept before I can make you mine…again…for this final time."

Her arms hung loosely around his shoulders. His hand gripped her hips. Olivia considered his words. She was convinced that she was starring in the best dream she'd ever had. She knew she would wake up at some point. Until then, she wanted everything he had to give. Her eyes ran greedily over him. She let her hands move over his wide shoulders, down his sculpted arms, and across his hairy chest. Her fingers waded through his chest hair, and then reconnected behind his neck.

"Yes, Fitzgerald. I accept you."

His mouth spread into a wide grin revealing the fangs on either side of his mouth. Olivia gasped when she saw them, but it was too late. She had consented. In one fell swoop, he lifted her up to sheath his manhood while simultaneously sinking his sharp fangs into the rise of her neck. Her head fell back sharply as the intense pain burned her through to the core. Twin streams of blood flowed out of the tiny holes. She was frozen. Unable to scream or protest, she could only feel. Burning. Fire. Heat. Smolder. Chilling. Coldness.

She pulled her head forward releasing its unnatural arch, her irises now a brilliant red, peered into his.

"Fuck me," she demanded.

As she lay on her back, absorbing his strokes, she thought of nothing but the moment.


	3. Surrender

**Chapter 3**

**Surrender**

* * *

"When do you think she will awaken?" Tomas said. He circled the stone table where Maya rested peacefully. She was dressed in a long linen tunic. Her thick curly mane fanned out like a halo around her face. Tomas extended his hand to touch it, but this time he didn't check to see if Anjel was watching.

"Tomas, stop that at once!" Anjel whispered. Tomas snatched his hand back just before he turned and joined Anjel at the table, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Tomas, you must abandon this…this obsession you have for her. She is our Priestess, our Shaman…the wife of the High Priest. If he were to find out you harbored carnal thoughts about her you would be castrated and-"

"No more, Anjel! I merely asked you a question. We are of the same rank so you speak with no authority over me. And after the acts you committed during the festival in New Orleans, you have no right to judge me!"

Anjel threw up his hands in surrender. "I yield! I yield…But in my defense, those were regular women who were high on spirits and practically begging for it. Our time was limited so having them all at once was more an exercise in efficiency than licentiousness."

They stared at each other intently for a full 30 seconds until their simultaneous laughter broke the tension. Maya took advantage of their distraction to lift her legs, testing them for movement. They felt weighted down, but she was able to raise them a couple of inches off the table. She tried her arms. They weren't as leaden as before.

_This won't due. I need to get out of here. I can't wait for the spell Rowan cast to wear off. _

She stilled herself and continued listening to the conversation between her captors for some means of escape.

"You know I don't mean anything by that, Tomas. You're not the first guard to lust after the priestess. I've had a carnal thought or two about her. But my fear of her quells any desires I have for her. Did you see that ball of fire she hurled at the High Priest? Sometimes I forget she's a woman when she behaves like an Orisha."

Tomas grabbed the drawstring bag of chess pieces and began arranging them on the board. "Don't speak of such things, Anjel. The High Priest and Priestess are flesh and blood as we are. The spirit of the Orishas flow through them to us for the benefit of all on this earth and even those who don't know The Way."

"I know, but there is something peculiar about her, Tomas. My foremother told me that the High Priest and Priestess have more children…not just their two sons. There was one before them…a girl...it is said that the Priestess sacrificed her to demons," said Anjel. "Maybe that's why she's been put here in the catacombs by the High Priest…as penance."

"I won't speak of such things. They are falsehoods. And if it were true, why not punish her before now? We've been down here for too long. She should have awakened by now. Let's play another round of chess. If she isn't awake by the end of our game, we should alert the High Priest," said Tomas.

"Tomas," Anjel said. He turned back and looked at Maya and then at Tomas, lowering his voice considerably and leaning in closer. The stone room was large, but the acoustics were so precise that his voice bounced off the walls even as he whispered. "I have a proposition for you…a favor to ask of you."

Tomas frowned at the way Anjel's green eyes danced, practically twinkled with excitement that Tomas knew meant trouble. Anjel played the role of the devout, compliant guard servant. Like Tomas, he was well over 6 feet tall, body rippling with muscles. There heads were clean shaven. They had taken an oath to serve and protect the priestly family forsaking their own lives. Anjel was rarely one to follow the law of their Order to the letter, but he was becoming increasingly restless in his rule breaking.

"And what might that be, Anjel, though I'm afraid to ask." Tomas pushed the chess game to the side.

"There's no need to be afraid." Anjel lowered his voice further. "I need to leave this place for a couple of hours. I prepared to depart, but when the High Priest summoned us to bring her here it threw a monkey wrench in my plans. It wasn't on our schedule for today. I had made other plans."

"You are not free to _make other plans_! You are a guard servant whose _only_ job is to guard and serve. Your sneaking out and cavorting with non-followers…or anyone for matter is prohibited. It could expose our ways and bring them under peril," said Tomas.

"We will not be exposed. I am very careful about whom I chose to-"

"I'll never understand how you became a servant guard. You have no commitment or sense of calling to this way of life. You could have still followed The Way on the outside...been something else entirely…yet you try to live in both worlds. I don't understand."

"It's not for you to understand. This life was chosen for my by my foreparents. I had no say-"

"But you can take this up with the High Priestess instead of skulking around. No good will come of this. Your actions are not really hidden from the Orishas who see all-"

_Let him go._

When Tomas heard the voice, he stopped short. It was of female origin.

"Did you hear that?" Tomas said.

"What? The only thing I hear is you and your judgments. If anything happens I wouldn't ask you to take any blame…"

_Say yes. Let him go. Let him go. _

Tomas rose from the table and walked to Maya. She looked the same as before, sleeping, yet he could hear her voice clearly.

_Yes, this is your Priestess commanding you to let him go._

Tomas was consumed by fear, embarrassment, and excitement all at once. _Had she heard them talking? Was she really awake? Why is she letting him go?_

"Anjel, yes, you may go. I will handle things here." Tomas couldn't take his eyes from Maya.

Anjel, who had been talking the entire time, making his case, stopped and stared at Tomas who was staring at the Priestess strangely. Part of him wanted to inquire as to why, but he didn't want to risk that Tomas would change his mind. He rose from the table. "Thank you, Tomas. Remember to give her the tincture to keep her asleep. I'll be back in a few hours. I met a nice woman on the world wide web. You may have heard of the site, farmers only dot com. She is-"

"I don't care to hear the details, Anjel. Return soon, but if the High Priest asks for you…" he said breaking his gaze from Maya and looking at Anjel."

"I will be back soon," Anjel said before making a swift exit from the room.

Tomas looked at Maya. Anjel and his shenanigans were no longer registering. His thoughts were consumed with Maya. He reached for the tincture, but her eyes opened.

"Tomas…" Maya said. Her voice sounded hoarse.

Tomas gasped and dropped the tincture. It shattered on the floor. The liquid made a searing sound on the stone.

Maya sat up slowly. She reached for Tomas's hand. "Tomas, I-I need your h-help."

He let her draw him closer. Her voice sounded weak, but he knew he couldn't wrest himself from her grip, though he dwarfed her in height and weight. He didn't want her to let go. He looked into her eyes which appeared to be mahogany pools that drew him in.

"I-I-I dropped the tincture-"

"Don't worry about that. I don't need it. You have to help me, Tomas. Anjel was right on one account. The High Priest and I have a daughter. She is in immense danger and has been for a long time…seems like an eternity. I need your help to get her back."

Tomas felt himself being drawn closer to her. "Anything. I'll do anything…But the High Priest is angry…why d-d-did he put you here?"

"He is sick with grief…out of his mind with anguish. The High Priest isn't thinking straight. That's why I need you. The Orisha have chosen you to help me save her."

"Save her from what?" Tomas was beginning to feel drowsy.

"Vampires," she said. "Will you accept this call? Will you help me?"

Tomas was drowning in her eyes, having been pulled so close to her. Only several inches separated them. He knew he couldn't do anything but comply. "Yes," he whispered. Immediately he felt his mouth pull open in a mirror image to hers. His heart beat like a drum against his chest. Before he could wonder about whether she was going to kiss him, he felt the breath being sucked from him deep within him. Her irises were now whirling pools of red.

* * *

Complete contentment. This was what Olivia felt. She also felt strange, but in a manner she couldn't quite pinpoint until she remembered her dream. She saw the images in her mind, bodies melding, passion-filled cries, and flickering flames. Something rippled through her body and then she saw the image of two sharp fangs descending towards her…

Her lids flipped back and the first thing she saw were those eyes. They were no longer red, but peculiarly, the darkest grey she'd ever seen. She was on her back in bed. He sat next to her, leaning over her form as if he were waiting for her to wake up.

_Am I still dreaming?_

"Darling?" he said.

The sound of his voice answered her. This was no dream. Olivia followed her gut reaction. She pushed around him and ran out of bed. Before anything registered, she felt her body fly across the room, make contact with the wall and then slide to the floor. He was there beside her on the floor in an instant just as her head began to pound.

He picked her up and carried her back to the bed. That's when she realized they were both naked. "Olivia, darling, you can't make any sudden movements yet."

She was the epitome of conflicted. She wanted to get away from him, but she couldn't imagine being anywhere else. She was extremely afraid of him, but she felt safe in his arms. When she remembered him lapping at her blood, she was repulsed yet aroused.

He cradled her in his arms. "My head h-h-hurts. You threw m-m-me across the room."

"No, Olivia. You ran into the wall. You are transitioning…your body is changing. But the headache has nothing to do with that change. As long as you continue to reject the change, you will feel that pain. You are causing your pain."

_No. Yes. _

She grabbed her head as a fresh wave of pain overtook her. "Make it stop, please."

When he placed her on the bed, she noticed the familiar surroundings. They were in her bedroom at her apartment. The room was dark but the light from the bathroom partially illuminated the room. It felt like morning, but she wasn't sure. All she wanted was for the pain to stop.

"Darling, just surrender. Accept this."

All she could do was grab her head and beg for mercy. "Please…make...stop…help me, please."

Through her pain she saw the deep concern and grief in his eyes. "Olivia, it will be better if you stop fighting this."

A flash of anger overtook her, numbing the pain for a moment. "Accept what? I don't know what the hell you're talking about! Fuck! It hurts! Make it stop!" She moaned and writhed in pain.

"Yes, I will make it go away," he said. Fitzgerald jumped on top of her and manacled her wrists in his hands. In response to the pain, her head moved from side to side, the only part of her body not held down.

"Olivia, I'll make it stop. Look at me."

Olivia didn't immediately comply.

"Olivia! Look at me!"

Something in his voice made her still her head and look at him.

"Olivia, when the pain stops, you must stop taking it from me, okay, darling."

Her breathing was ragged now. "Stop what?"

"You must stop or…or…you'll kill me."

He opened his mouth and Olivia braced herself for a bite. But he didn't bite her. Then she caught a whiff of a most fragrant smell. She had no words to describe it. She wanted it. She opened her mouth mimicking the way he opened his. She inhaled the delicious scent. The more she inhaled the deeper she drew on him. There was an invisible band of something she was taking from him. It filled every part of her, every pore, every cell. She wanted more of this so she flipped him over onto his back, straddled him, and continued to draw this inexplicable thing. The pain was gone, but she couldn't stop.

_Olivia, please stop._

She heard his voice. It was weak, thin, and far away. Olivia ignored it as the waves of pleasure rolled over her.

_I love you. Please… stop._

Olivia opened her eyes and saw him. His body glistened with moisture, what she assumed was sweat. He was hot to the touch. His face was frozen in agony, his mouth was stretched open as far as it would go.

Olivia turned away, breaking the hold she had on him. She turned back to him realizing his body was stiff and rigid like a corpse but still warm.

"Fitzgerald…Fitzgerald…Fitzgerald…Oh My God…Wake up," she shook him and closed his mouth with her hand, "Please wake up. I'm s-s-orry. So sorry! Please. Please." She pleaded with him, pulling him into her arms. She rocked back and forth, comforted only by the fact that his body was warm.

_Olivia_

She stopped rocking when she heard his voice in her mind. She pulled his face around to see him. His irises were translucent. She closed her eyes and tried to answer back.

_Yes, Fitzgerald_

_I am very weak, but not dead. The sun has risen. It is day. I need to sleep until the sun sets again so that my body can restore itself. _

Olivia felt a rush of relief.

_I'm sorry. What did I do? I don't know what is happening. I can't take this not knowing. I know you, but I don't. I…_

_Olivia, all will be revealed soon. Cover me with the bedclothes completely. Do not leave the apartment. Do not contact anyone. I know this is all strange for you, but you are a danger to every human you encounter during this transition. What you did to me, you'll want to do to others if you venture outside. Please just wait. I must sleep now, Olivia._

Olivia felt a faint throbbing in her head. She wanted to question him more, but she decided against it for fear of the pain returning. She opened her eyes and looked at him on the bed. A band of light from the bath room light illuminated one side of his face. When she flipped on the light by the bed, she saw him clearly. His face held none of the agony it did before. His features were slack now in a resting pose. She traced his features with her fingertips. His skin was cool to the touch and smooth as glass. She let her eyes roam over the length of him. It was as if he had been chiseled out of stone. She slowly moved from the bed and began covering him with the bedclothes.

She walked into her closet, grabbed a robe, turned off the lamp, and left the room. When she passed the hallway mirror, she gasped at her reflection. She stood there peering at the unfamiliar woman looking back at her. Olivia leaned in closer and saw her features, the woman she knew to be herself. Her face and body were essentially the same with the exception of her hair. In the last several years, she'd been wearing it chemically straightened. Byron liked it that way. Now it hung in thick waves and rested on her shoulders like a black version of Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. After taking in her face, she looked at her naked body. She had that same chiseled look as Fitzgerald. Her abdomen was absent the slight pooch she could easily hide with spanx when she wore a form fitting dress. This was her old body but it was leaner. At the same time, her body looked and felt bigger, taller somehow. Realizing she still held her robe, she slipped it on. The cloth strained against her shoulders and it stopped in the middle of her thighs, shorter than normal.

"Did I grow?" she said aloud, turning to the right and the left. She leaned forward, craned her neck to the side, and brushed her fingers over the two small holes on the rise of her neck. She turned out her leg and saw the matching set of puncture holes on the top of the inside of her thigh. A sliver of arousal rushed through her as she remembered him biting her there. Olivia's head swirled with questions and unfamiliar memories.

She needed to talk so someone so she phoned Stacia.

"Liv, I'm so glad you called. I've been trying to reach you since you left last night. Did you turn your ringer off?"

"R-r-ringer? What? Stacia, what happened yesterday evening…after-"

"You tell me, Liv. Patrick and I left you and Count Dracula in your office and that was it. Poof. When did you leave? When did he leave? Patrick was mad he didn't get to kiss the count's ass before he left. So…what _happened_?"

"So you didn't see me after you and Patrick left my office?"

"No, Liv. I stopped by your office. You had packed up and left. Are you okay? You sound funny. Did that guy threaten you? Are they are suing you or something...over the book?"

"No, no, no…"

"What's wrong, then?"

Olivia wanted to sit down. Instantly, she was on the sofa. "Oh…" Olivia shook her head to focus.

"Stacia…something happened…something is happening to me…I…"

"What Stacia? You've changed your mind about leaving the High Museum? You slept with Count Dracula?" Stacia laughed after throwing out the hypothetical questions.

"Yes…"

Stacia stopped laughing. "Yes, what?"

"Yes…to the second thing." Olivia could feel Stacia's eyes widening through the phone.

"What? Liv, you didn't!"

"I did…several times. He bit me…several times and I think he drew blood. He is a vampire…I think. I may be one now too. I flew across a room this morning and ran into a wall. I almost sucked the life out of him this morning so now he is sleeping to recover from it. It seems I've grown several inches and my hair is curly."

"Olivia, I don't understand anything you're saying right now. Do you want me to come over? You need to get yourself together before Byron gets in town. Marcus and I had plans today, but you are obviously in crisis. He'll understand."

"No, no, no…Stacia. I'm fine! Don't come over! I'm…going crazy with this transition…all the changes right now. Promise me!"

"Okay, Liv! I won't come over, but you need to get yourself straight before Byron gets back."

"Ok, Stace, thanks, Bye." Olivia hung up. When the phone disconnected, her mind finally registered. _Byron._

* * *

It was an hour past sundown. Fitzgerald was still asleep. It had taken all her will power to stay inside her apartment. She had found a pair of jeans that fit fairly well-they were too short-and a t-shirt. During the hours of his slumber, she'd paced the length of the apartment and then literally walked up the walls. She tested out her new abilities, her powers of mind and body. She could move inanimate objects or place herself in a different place in her apartment just by thinking it. She could catapult herself across distances. After nearly crashing through a window, she stopped experimenting.

She hadn't checked on Fitzgerald in an hour. He'd been sleeping for almost 12 hours, the same amount of time she'd been caged in the apartment. Olivia opened her bedroom door and flipped on the bedside lamp. His form was visible under the covers like a statue, unmoving and static. She didn't understand why she felt such affection for what lay under the covers, but as much as she wanted to flee, she couldn't.

His coat was draped over a chair. When she noticed it, she also noticed the sound of several dings. She stood before the jacket in a second and held a intricately designed medallion in her hand. It was inlaid with a striking crystal that changed colors when she touched it. The sound grew louder, more like a pulse that vibrated. Colors flickered from the crystal projecting dazzling lights across the room as the sound grew louder. It was beautiful. Olivia couldn't stop watching the colors play across the walls. Then the pulsating stopped and the light disappeared. That's when she heard the pounding on the door.

At the door in an instant, Olivia pulled it open. The woman who stood before had eyes filled with contempt.

"What have you done with my brother?" she said before walking around Olivia and entering her apartment without an invitation.

Olivia spun around. She threw back her hand without a second thought and the door slammed behind her. This intruder was very tall, with skin like alabaster, flaming red tresses, and emerald green eyes. In many ways, she was the female version of Fitzgerald. She wore a black bodysuit, black heeled thigh boots, and a velvet cape.

"If the last twenty-four hours could get any stranger…" Olivia mumbled. "You know…I'm not answering any questions until someone explains to me what the hell is going on."

"Fitzgerald hasn't told you yet? By the looks of it you're still transitioning. I don't know how you two have survived this… so many times...I couldn't do it. You two should have given each other up to end this hell you are in."

Olivia frowned, but she felt a sense of relief at the possibility of getting answers. She walked to the sofa and sat down in the regular way. "Francesca, please sit down…wait, how...? I know you?"

Francesca sat down across from Olivia. "Yes, of course you know me. But I have to know where my brother is."

"He's sleeping in the other room. I'm hoping he will wake up soon."

"Sleeping! That's impossible…unless you siphoned him!" Francesca was standing now. "Why would he let you do that?" She sat back down. "Why am I even asking that nonsensical question. Fitzgerald would do anything for you. That's why you are so dangerous."

"Francesca…It is dangerous that I have no clue about what is happening to me. Yesterday, I was living my life and then out of no where, Fitzgerald, appeared. I don't know what I did to him, but he said I would want to do it to others…that I was a danger. So please, I beg of you, please tell me what's going on."

Francesca looked at her skeptically. "It's not my place to tell you everything, but I feel some measure of sympathy for your…plight at this juncture. I'll share the pertinent details." Francesca removed her cape and made herself comfortable on the couch.

"You and my brother have...shall I say…a history. My family was touring in New Orleans a year after that hideous blood bath of a lynching in 1891. Really it was the final act of war between the Hennessy and Piersontescu clans. My father came to spread goodwill from the elders by bringing his family…" Francesca stopped talking at the look of confusion on Olivia's face. "I'm digressing…Here are the facts. You and Fitzgerald met is 1891. Shortly thereafter you two became involved against the wishes of your mother and my father."

"Why didn't they want us to be together?" Olivia asked.

Francesca smiled. "That's your question after what I just said? You are extremely human, Olivia…even if only a hybrid…Well, to put it simply. Fitzgerald is…I am Nosferatu or maybe vampire would be the word most familiar term for you."

"That explains _some_ things-"

"It's best not to ask questions until you have full information which I cannot give you, but you on the other hand are a witch-"

"It doesn't help to call me names-"

"Olivia, no, you are a witch, a sorcerer, a conjurer…I'm not sure what name your kind goes by now. You all are always changing your name without notice. Now…your mother tries to act as if your magic is some sort of religion, like she and your father are in some holy priesthood. I shall return to the story. When your mother found out you and Fitzgerald were involved she cast a spell on you two when you wouldn't stop seeing him. Since 1892, you've been on this cycle of death and rebirth. You die and are reborn. Fitzgerald searches for you, but when he finds you and helps you to remember him, you die. This has happened seven times since 1892. The curse ends with this time, the seventh. I am confident, though, that your mother is working on something to hurt my brother...to end him."

"How old am I? How old is Fitzgerald?"

"You are technically whatever age you are now. You've had several lives as Olivia something or other since 1892. Your first life or birth was in 1875, I think. My brother has had only one life. I'll let him tell you how old _he_ is…significantly older than all your lives put together, though." Francesca appeared beside her on the sofa. "Olivia, I am here to ask one simple request of you."

"And what is that?" Olivia moved back to put distance between them.

Francesca managed to look gentle and nurturing. "I know this is difficult to understand. You and my brother have suffered so for over a century. I'm here to help you both end this suffering. All you have to do is-"

"Francesca, you must leave," said Fitzgerald. He was standing at the bedroom door dressed. He seemed to fill the room with his presence.

"Brother…" Francesca was in front of Fitzgerald in an instant hugging him. "You're restored and awake. I'm here because I'm worried about you. The family is worried."

"Thank you, sister. There is no need to worry about me. Please leave."

"But danger surely lurks. You know her mother is planning something. She's not going to rest until she has destroyed you. Look what she was willing to do to her daughter."

"Francesca, you will leave now or I shall remove you."

She stared at him for awhile then leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Very well then, but promise me you won't put yourself in danger any longer. No more siphoning. If she doesn't cooperate with her transition, she should face the consequences."

Fitzgerald scowled at his sister.

"Hope to see you again soon, brother. Olivia, if you do anything to hurt my brother, you'll have to deal with a legion of vampires," said Francesca before she was out the door in a blur.

"How are you feeling?" Olivia asked, unmoved by Francesca's threat now that Fitzgerald was awake.

He was on the sofa beside her in a breath. "Much better now that I can see you, darling."

She smiled at him. "I love it when you call me that."

He kissed her gently on the lips. "Was Francesca telling the truth about us?" she asked.

"Yes, for the most part…the abbreviated version, colored by her own opinion of things." He kissed her on the neck. She leaned into him.

"I want to hear your version of the truth about as much as I want to be with you right now."

"I am going to weigh the scales towards telling you everything and then we can make love."

Olivia pulled back and slid to the opposite end of the sofa. "Okay, I'm ready."

* * *

Tomas stood over Byron's dead body, his heart was filled with regret. He had never killed anyone before.

"Tomas, you are doing the work of the Orisha. This is the only way. Byron is not suffering. He will be rewarded for his sacrifice. Now you must submit to the ritual so that you can be Byron and rescue my daughter," said Maya.

"But he knows nothing of The Way. He did not consent to be a sacrifice. How can the Orisha be pleased with that?"

"I am your priestess, Tomas. Let me be concerned about what pleases the Orisha. Come, my Tomas." She held out her arms to him. He went willingly, trapped by his need for her.


	4. Origins

**Chapter 4**

**Origins**

* * *

_Florence, Italy _

_1891 _

"I will not go Father," said Fitzgerald. He steeled himself against his father's wrath that was sure to come. Victor looked with disdain around his son's research laboratory. Bubbling beakers, bowls of concoctions, and stacks of books littered every surface, a sign of what occupied him day and night. "I have my work here. I am close to a cure for what plagues us. The scourge-"

"Silence, Fitzgerald! This is over! I've indulged you for too long. There is no cure for what we are. The heritage of nosferatu is a gift not a curse. Ambrogio's destruction had nothing to do with vampirism. He refused to control himself and met with the consequences of his greed. You must stop this search for a cure. It is a waste of your time and talents, Fitzgerald!" Victor moved closer to his son.

"How can you speak that way about your son…my brother? He was killed for what he was…hunted like an animal and killed for a crime he didn't commit. But they were so quick to believe he did it."

Victor's features softened at the agony on his son's face. "Fitzgerald, son, Ambrogio has been dead for almost a millennia now-"

"Ambrogio is not dead, Father. I wish he were because he would have hope of coming back. Our kind…we cannot die. We can only be destroyed. This immortality is a curse of which I can find a cure and-"

"Enough, Fitzgerald!" Victor lifted his son from the floor by the strength of his power until he hovered in the air by several feet. Fitzgerald couldn't move, only hear. "Son, your research is now forbidden! I am destroying this laboratory. What will the other clans think about my control if I allow you, my son, to continue…that I am turning my back on our kind…that I hate who we are…that I am looking for a cure to make us like the lowly humans? You are traveling with this family to America. We have work to do there."

When Victor left the room, the hold was released and Fitzgerald fell to the floor.

* * *

_New Orleans, Louisiana_

_1891_

"But mother, I don't want to go to the Gala. I would rather stay home and practice casting. I've nearly mastered flame throwing," Olivia said. She sat before the large vanity mirror while her mother pinned up her hair.

"My dear girl, you are becoming two free with your language about the craft. Your father can never know what I've taught you. We have-"

"…renounced the craft, all sorcery, and the dark arts. We are now the priests of the old religion of Santeria that the Orishas have proclaimed…I know mother, I know. I won't tell Father, but when I become seventeen I want to be what I truly am. I will no longer pretend, Mother, I refuse to no matter what Father desires," said Olivia, her jaw set with determination.

Maya hid her irritation. Teaching her daughter the art of casting had been a mistake. She continued to assert her desire to be a witch when she was supposed to become a priestess like she and Rowan. It was time to find her a mate as well.

"My dear girl-"

"Mother, I'm no longer a girl. I am a woman now, nearly seventeen. I want to be treated as one. Grandmother was about to lead a coven when she was seventeen-"

"No, dear, that was your great grandmother and times were much different then." Maya leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Olivia's shoulders. She looked at their reflections. "Olivia, you are becoming a woman and… as much as you might be against it, your future is solidified. It is time to find you a suitable mate-"

Olivia's eyes filled with tears. "No, Mother, No…I don't want a mate. My only interest is casting. I want to be a High Priestess like you one day, but not of the old religion…but for divination. This is my calling, Mommy, I don't want a mate!"

Maya held her tighter. "Oh Olivia, you remind me of myself at your age, my dearest." Maya reached for a cloth and soaked up her tears. "I will never let you go off on your own in this cruel world without the protection of the Orisha. New Orleans is friendly to those of us with dark skin, wide noses, and thick lips. But beyond our village, there are those who think we are accursed. A _black _witch would pose a greater threat my dear. Most of the women they tortured in Salem in those trials on these very shores were white, but our foremother, Tituba, barely escaped with her life. I cannot have you in danger-"

"But Mother!"

"Stop your whining at once Olivia! You will dry your tears. In life, we cannot have all we desire. I have given you the gift of casting because it is your birthright, but you must keep it inside for yourself. It cannot be a way of life. Dry your eyes my dear, get dressed, and prepare for the Gala. You never know, the one who is to be your mate may be there." Maya kissed Olivia on the cheek and left her there silently weeping.

Maya rushed from Olivia's room and into the one she shared with Rowan. He was away visiting the elders which would make it possible for Maya to have uninterrupted time with Victor. She sensed the need to spend more time with her daughter discussing her future, but her desire for Victor crowded out her reason. There a swift knock on her door and Maya's sister, Sheba burst into the room.

"Maya, you have to stop this! We can't go to that Gala tonight. It wouldn't be right," said Sheba.

Maya spun around. "What are you talking about, Sister? You've been wanting to go to the Founder's Gala all year."

"Yes, that was until I found out that your lover would be in attendance and-"

Maya rushed to her sister. "Lower your voice. Someone could hear you. Where is this coming from?" Maya whispered forcefully.

"I have it on good authority that Victor Grantaspare will be attending the Gala tonight. You had to know I'd find out just like Rowan will when he gets home. Ever since that feud between the Mantrangas and Provezanos it has been hell on earth in New Orleans with the assassination of David Hennessy and the lynching of those Italian men. That's what happens when vampires from rival clans try to coexist in one area. This controversy had grown to a magnitude that those blood suckers can no longer keep their secrets under the table. Victor Grantaspare is coming all the way from Italy to bring peace. That's what I heard. Then I remembered how giddy you've been these last weeks about this ball. This is your chance to reconcile with your demon lover."

"Sheba, I won't talk about this with you or-"

Sheba tensed her body causing the mirrors to shatter in the room. "Maya, you promised Mother, Rowan, me, that you were no longer involved with Grantaspare. You have been lying and using the craft to cover the fact that…that…you are one of them or close to it, haven't you?"

Maya began to weep. "I-I-I'm sorry…Sheba…"

"At least you are not denying it-"

* * *

"I don't have the strength to lie anymore. I love Victor. I let him partake of my blood after I gave birth to Olivia. You know how I suffered with melancholia after having her. He promised me it would make me feel better and it did. I cast a spell to prevent my transition and it has held for over 16 years." Maya sat on the bench at the foot of her bed. She became silent. She reached for her sister's hand and pulled her down beside her. "Sheba, I need you to tell you something. I feel a tremendous sense of relief that I can share this with you. I am going back to Italy with Victor. I need you to take care of Olivia for me. She is just as headstrong as I was. She is determined to be a High Priestess of her own coven. She doesn't want to carry on the old religion. She says she doesn't want a mate, but I'm sure that will change when she meets the right one-"

Sheba's face lost all its fury. He expression became stoic and stony. "You can stop now, Sister. I don't need to hear anymore. I don't profess to be without blemish in my own life or to stand in judgment of you, but I must speak my mind. That you are selfish and greedy is of no surprise, but I never imagined that you were completely daft and able to be taken advantage of. Victor has a wife, children…He is one of the Supreme Vampires…and you think he will somehow give that up or perhaps incorporate you into that life as his concubine? You would leave your order, your family, your fate to become some vampiric witch hybrid? All of this is nonsense, but most importantly it is putting this family in peril by linking us to-"

Maya looked beyond her sister at the snow globe on the bureau. With a quick gesticulation of her arms, she cast her sister inside the globe. Maya walked to the bureau and peered into the globe. There she saw her sister sitting as if she were a figurine.

"I'm sorry, dear, Sister. I had to get you before you got me. I felt a spell coming at the end of your monologue. Don't fret. I'll release you after the Gala. Take care of my Olivia."

Maya turned away and began getting ready for the Gala.

* * *

"This night smells of opportunity," said Massimo, a wicked smile spread across his lips. "There's a wildness about these American lands that I love." One of his raven curls fell across his forehead.

"The wildness is in the women and not the land, Brother. It's the democracy. Makes one yearn for liberation," said Giovanni. Massimo and Giovanni chuckled in the back of the carriage. Francesca pursed her lips at her brothers, but she continued to stare at Fitzgerald with concern.

"But it is hands off as you have been made well aware, Massimo and Giovanni, there will be no intimate contact between any member of the Grantaspare family and humans. We are here to spread peace between two warring clans…not make trouble for them," said Benito. He was their paternal uncle and part of their entourage.

"You don't have to worry about Fitzgerald whose had a horrible temper for how many centuries?" said Massimo.

"No, Massimo. I think he's tricked us all. He is not angry that Father destroyed his laboratory for the research. I think he was really harboring a harem of beautiful girls and he didn't want to share," said Giovanni who was smiling and revealing his set of dimples.

"You may be right. I remember the days when our brother indulged in his share of fleshly delights more than any of us," said Massimo.

"Massimo, Giovanni, enough," said Francesca.

"Stop this carriage! I need some air," said Fitzgerald. The carriage continued along, but he opened he door and jumped out.

Benito made a motion to go after him, but Francesca stopped him. "I'll go, Uncle and ensure he gets there unscathed. You watch these two brutes," she said before opening the door and following after her brother. She caught up to him coasting just above the trees. She spoke to him mentally since the wind whipping around them made speech impossible.

_Brother, are you okay?_

_Francesca, please rejoin the family. I am fine._

_We can rebuild the laboratory when we return to Italy. It pains me to see you so…_

_Sister, I am about to descend. Flying and communicating like this will drain our strength._

Fitz immediately dropped 20 feet and landed beside the road. Francesca joined him.

"Sister, I appreciate your concern. I am fine," he said as they began walking to the grounds of the Gala.

"Ignore Massimo and Giovanni. They never really knew our brother. Ambrogio is more a myth to them."

"I know, Francesca. I hate it when they celebrate my reckless behavior when I was just trying to make sense of his destruction. But I'm tired of mourning for him. He decided to align himself with the Church, knowing they would not accept him once they found out what he was."

"There is no need to mourn him now. Embrace this immortality that you have and you will get that one thing you lack, Brother."

Fitzgerald stopped walking and Francesca followed suit. "An pray tell what do I lack?"

"Love, Brother, Love. That's what you lack."

"We are vampires, Frannie. That is not possible for us. We can lust and thirst, but not love or be loved. As you very well know, our affection is designed to lure and enchant with one design in mind."

Francesca smiled at his term of endearment. He only used it when he felt she was being immature in a way that needed correcting. "I wasn't referring to the love of humans. It is possible for you to meet a female vampire whom you will love-"

"If I was capable of laughter, that's what I'd be doing now. Love is to be eschewed by those who are wise. But sister, I shall make an appearance at this Gala to spread peace and good will. Then I will make my exit. Please give me regrets to Father. If he asks for me."

"Okay, brother, but promise me that you from hence forth will be open to love if it should come your way."

"I promise Francesca, but such a cheery disposition doesn't look good on a vampire."

* * *

"Oh, Cousin, isn't this Gala the best?" said Esther. She guzzled down her third cup of punch.

Olivia looked a her cousin whose face held an expression of contentment and excitement. By contrast Olivia was frustrated and angry. She didn't want to be there flashing cheeky smiles for the haughty women and men in attendance. The lecherous gazes she received from the men angered her even further. She wished the bodice of her gown didn't make such a drastic dip, but her mother had insisted she wear it.

"Esther, why are we even here? The only other blacks in attendance besides our family and a few others are the servants. Not that I care to find a mate, but if I did there are none here. And where is Auntie Sheba?"

"I'm not sure, but I know that our parents will find mates for us. Until then, I wouldn't mind having a beau to take me on moonlit walks through town," said Esther. She stopped scanning the ballroom to glance at Olivia. "Stop sulking, Cousin Olivia. My mother wasn't feeling well so she stayed home which is a blessing because I can talk to whomever I want now. Wow, Olivia, look. Your mom is talking to the gentleman over there with all those people around him. He looks important."

Olivia followed her cousin's line of vision. Her mother was standing beside this very tall peculiar looking man. The contrast between his white skin and black hair was striking. Her mother was staring at him as if he was saying something very important. There were others around him just as tall, but Olivia saw only her mother and the man. This was her opportunity.

Olivia grabbed Esther's hand and pulled her around the corner. "Esther, dear Cousin, I need a favor. I need to leave now. Please tell Mother I went home…because I was…feeling sick…my flow came. Tell her I'm sick because of my flow."

Esther looked like she pitied her cousin. "Oh, how dreadful Olivia. Such bad luck on this night of all nights to get your flow. Now I understand your sour mood. I should get your Mother-"

"No, Esther. I don't really have my flow. It is a pretense. When Mother asks, tell her I went home because I was sick with my flow."

"Oooo. You want me to deliberately deceive Auntie Maya. Where will you really be? And it is going to cost you, Cousin."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I have a project I'm working on for the Academy that I really need to complete. I'll be working on it tonight. What do you want?"

Esther leaned in closer. "You can't pull the wool over my eyes, Cousin. I know you are casting, and I want you to teach me. My mother refuses to show me anything but those boring rituals of the Orisha."

Olivia glared at Esther. "Yes, Esther. I'll teach you, but not tonight. Do we have an agreement?"

Esther nodded and they said together, "May the Orisha watch between me and thee while we are absent one from another."

Olivia left Esther without a word.

* * *

"Did you make much progress on your research, Dr. Grantaspare?"

Fitzgerald turned to face the vampire whose presence he had sensed behind him.

Fitzgerald had escaped from the throngs of people at the Gala to the grand library for a minute alone. He had already decided to leave while staring up at the full moon. The sight of a female in a ball gown running into the forest caught his attention until he felt the presence enter the room behind him.

"And what research is that…Mr…?" Fitzgerald said.

The man of stocky build with dark brown skin laughed for a long time before answering.

"Dr. Grantaspare, don't mistake me for a man of ignorance just because I have black skin. I know you have been working for centuries on a cure for vampirism and that the powers that be in our community want you destroyed because of it. That is why your father destroyed your laboratory and dragged you here. It is in part to quell the war between the Mantrangas and Provezanos, but it is also to show that you don't hate your own kind. He can't have the son of a Supreme hating vampirism. But I am here to offer you the opportunity to continue your research…here on these shores of course."

Fitzgerald sauntered toward the man to get a closer look at him. He smelled calm and nonthreatening. "You have failed to identify yourself…Mr…?"

"My apologies due in part to my excitement that I was able to find you alone. Dr. Toussaint, but you can call me Bannaky. As you can sense, I am one of your kind. Unfortunately, the burden I carry as a black vampire still makes me somewhat of a second class citizen even though I have immortality, but that is a discussion for another time. I've talked too much already. What do you think?"

"Dr. Toussaint, I must say. I don't know how to respond."

"Then don't…respond. Here is my card. Mull it over. At least meet me again to discuss more of the details. It was nice to have met you, Dr. Grantaspare." Bannaky extended his hand and Fitzgerald grabbed it. They shook and he was gone.

Fitzgerald returned to the window, remembering the woman he saw running into the woods. He hastily swiped his brow with felt hot to the touch. He was sweating. The familiar pangs of thirst began to command his attention.

_Brother, where are you?_

He heard Francesca's voice through the blur of thirst.

_In the library. _

She was there in an instant. "Fitzgerald, here, have a seat. You're sweating. You're very warm." She looked into his eyes once he was sitting. Her sharp intake of breath signaled alarm. "Fitzgerald, your pupils are dilated fully. You have all the signs of extreme thirst, but you shouldn't. We were all sated enough to last until we returned home."

"I-I don't know," he said. He felt his fangs lengthening.

"How long have you been feeling this way?" Francesca asked. She pulled up back his lips to see his fangs appearing.

"It started when we got to New Orleans, but has become more pronounced since we arrived at this Gala, Francesca. I have to-"

"No, Fitzgerald you can't go off by yourself until we figure out what's causing this. You are not rational right now."

"Let me go Francesca."

Francesca was torn between concern for her brother and joy at the thought that his mate was somewhere in the vicinity. She moved back. Fitzgerald rushed to the window and raised it. He looked back at his sister. "Don't come after me. I have the beacon. You'll know where I am if I'm not back soon. Please don't tell Father about this."

And then he was gone.

* * *

Olivia was close to giving up. Her casting practice was not going well. Even though she had all the elements mixed precisely and performed the incantation flawlessly, there was barely a flicker of a spark.

She stomped her foot and cursed at the full moon. "Be damned!" She wiped her hands on her ball gown that was stained with dirt that matched her face mottled with mud from the puddle she'd fallen in on her way to this spot. Her hair was a shock of frizzy pin curls.

But to Fitzgerald this strange peculiar girl whom he had been watching for over an hour held him transfixed. He had tracked her scent to a clearing deep in the forest. The closer he got to her the more intense his thirst became. Every part of him was screaming for her. He wanted her. He hesitated when he saw her gesticulating hands and heard her chanting over a pile of branches. His thirst subsided and was replaced by total fascination. She must have performed her ritual dozens of times. Now her machinations were becoming comical.

"Edgar, what am I doing wrong?" she said. He could not see whom she was addressing. Fitzgerald scowled until he saw a large, black furry spider perched on a branch. She held our her hand and it landed on her outstretched palm and scurried to her shoulder. She flopped on the ground and leaned against a tree. "It shouldn't be this difficult to throw fire, Mr. Poe. Why does it look so easy when Mother does it? I'm tired, dirty, and stinky. I should probably give up." When she leaned her head to what looked like a baby meglamorph, his eyes widened as he waited for it to bite her.

"Mr. Poe, I guess you are right. I should try again. If you can spin a web, I should be able to throw a flame." Olivia held out her hand. The spider jumped from her shoulder to her hand. She placed him back on the branch.

"Mr. Edgar Allan Poe, I will try again."

* * *

"Wait, Fitzgerald, no, no, no….I had a giant pet tarantula? That settles it. Something is wrong because I hhhhaaaaaate spiders across all time, past lives, future lives." Olivia jumped from the sofa and shook her whole body.

She felt him watching her in that way of his that made her feel naked and exposed. She returned to her side of the sofa. "Sorry."

He smiled at her. "Quite alright, darling. As I was saying..."

* * *

Olivia repeated her incantation while moving her body around the pile of twigs. At the appointed time, she rolled her wrists and flicked her hands. A fireball of yellow and red flames soared from her hands and consumed the pile of twigs.

"Ah! I did it! Edgar! I did it." Olivia celebrated by throwing her hands over head in victory. Unfortunately, flames were released into the trees. Each time she flung her arms, flames shot out and consumed whatever stood in its path.

Fitzgerald ducked to miss a ball of fire headed for his head. Olivia was screaming frantically as the flames licked around her feet. Fitzgerald flew up high above the fiery fray. He circled in search of a way in. He dove for her and scooped her up in his arms. By the time he had flown them far from the perimeter of the flames, he could see people running from the Gala and surround buildings to see the flames.

* * *

Olivia opened her eyes and what she saw made her scream. The abnormally large coal black eyes stared at her. A cold hand covered her mouth.

"Please don't scream. I'm not going to harm you."

Her eyes darted in all directions. She was cradled in the arms of this strange man who reminded her of a younger version of the man her mother was speaking with at the Gala. It was cold and dark, but it felt like morning.

_The Gala. What happened with my casting? Is it morning?_

Olivia's thoughts were choppy.

_The Gala was last night. Your casting was…successful. Yes._

Olivia frowned at him. Unclear why she could a voice answering her thoughts.

Olivia began to shake with fear. "What is your name? I promise you are safe. I will not harm you."

"O-Olivia."

"Olivia, it is a pleasure to meet you…officially. I am Fitzgerald. Last evening, you set fire to a portion of the woods when you were…casting. Is that what it is called? Are you a witch?"

That question angered Olivia. She sat up in his arms and that's when she felt the pain of the burns on her arms. "Ouch! I'm not quite a witch. But I did cast the flames that seemed to have burned my arms. I have to get…home. Thank you…but wait…I remember now. I remember what you did last night. You flew down and saved me! How did you do that? Are you a wizard…or a sorcerer?"

* * *

"I just came out and asked you like that? I wasn't afraid of you with those black eyes?" Olivia said. During the story, she had made her way to his end of the sofa and was now perched on his lap.

"Yes. I think I fell in love with you that night-my intense blood thirst and sexual desire notwithstanding-you were fearless, Olivia, and determined to cast those flames. I could have watched you try all night. It was simply fascinating." He caressed her hair. She blinked and sighed not wanting to move from this spot.

"What happened next? Is that when you bit me?" she asked eagerly.

"No. Even though your blood would have helped me tremendously. I was weak and crazy with hunger, but I couldn't do it. I wanted to heal your burns and I needed full strength. I used the beacon to call Francesca and she-"

"Beacon?"

"The device you took from my jacket with all the dazzling colors. You inadvertently answered Francesca's call. That is how she knew where to find us earlier."

"Oh…It's obvious she doesn't like me…"

"No, it's more that she hates the situation we are in. She blames you, but you are my life, Olivia…"

She hugged him. The love that filled her heart was beginning to feel familiar. She pulled back. "So Francesca came and-"

"Francesca came bearing two large elk. My thirst was sated. I healed your burns and Francesca and I took you home."

"What happened to my spider, Mr. Edgar Allan Poe?" She asked with another shiver.

"We did return to retrieve him from the burned out patch of woods."

"How did I take the news that you were a vampire?" she asked leaning against him.

"You were excited and made me promise to help you with your casting."

"But how was that possible? You were only in America for the Gala right? And how old were you when we met? I was almost 17, you say? When did I become a vampire? When did we first make love? When did my mom cast the spell? How?..."

"Darling, please accept that you won't get the answer to centuries worth of questions tonight. We will have to leave this apartment soon."

"I'm sorry," she said. She made a move to go back to her side of the sofa, but he wouldn't let her.

"There is no need for apologies. You have a right to know it all, just not all at once." He kissed her lips gently. She leaned in him to deepen the kiss. He pulled back first, but she spoke. "I can't imagine forgetting you."

"Not knowing was its own sort of gift, darling. I never forgot and that pain has been indescribable, but this is the end of that…"

"I am sorry for your pain, Fitzgerald."

"I am thankful that you could forget me to spare your pain."

They held each other for a moment.

"As for the age question, Olivia, when we met, yes, you were 16. I appeared as a man of twenty-five or thirty. I never really kept up with it. In actual years…I hope this does not frighten you, but I was born as a human in eighty-nine."

Olivia frowned. "Seventeen eight-nine? Sixteen? Fifteen?"

"Six hundred and eighty nine after the death of the carpenter-"

"You were born in six hundred eighty nine A.D. after Jesus…wow? That is some major cradle robbing."

"Well, that is immortality. Getting back to the story-"

"No, wait, Fitzgerald…I don't discount the depth of our love, but you'll never convince me that I am the only woman you've loved in over thirteen hundred years."

"Darling, we are straying too wildly from the story."

"Okay, but we will have that discussion one day."

"That sounds reasonable. After that first night, we became…friends. My family and I were in New Orleans for about two weeks of which I saw you every day to help you with your casting. After I returned home to Florence, I gathered my research, accepted Dr. Toussaint's offer, and moved to New Orleans. I convinced my father I was moving to help him keep an eye on the Mantrangas and Provezanos. Francesca was the only one in my family who knew the truth. She visited often and you two became friends. You kept me a secret from your family because I was helping you practice your casting. Everything was going well until about the seventh month. The simple reason is that being friends became untenable. We both loved and desired each other and it only grew more in those months. I managed my thirst pretty well. But you being young and tempestuous decided to take matters in your own hands. Instead of telling me how you felt, you gave me a love potion. I didn't take it of course. It wouldn't have worked-probably burned my flesh-but I let you think I did. That was when we had our first kiss. We came really close to consummating. You asked to bite you...make you a vampire...but refused. I was trying to find a cure then not to infect someone else. You mistook my denial for rejection and... you disappeared."

"I sounded very unstable, Fitzgerald."

"No, you were young and in love."

* * *

"Olivia! Olivia! Please stop running! You will hurt yourself," Fitzgerald said. He scanned the mass of trees and saw her run from behind a rock and down the path. He zipped after her but was thrown back by the line of fire she threw at him.

Fitz righted himself and flew over her. He spoke to her mind.

_Darling, please stop before you hurt yourself._

_Dr. Grantaspare, stop following me before I hurt you! You don't want me and I don't want you. Leave. Me. Alone._

_You don't mean that. You're hurt because you think I rejected you. _

Olivia stopped unexpectedly and extended her arm up to where he was in the sky flying above her. She had a clean shot at him. The line of fire caught him unawares. He slammed into a tree and fell to the ground a couple of feet in front of her.

Olivia scowled and ran past his body. She looked back and he still was there still not moving. She stopped and ran back to him to make sure he was okay.

He looked like a statue. "Fitzgerald, get up. I know you are pretending." She dropped to her knees beside him. With her hand, she carressed his face. "Fitz?"

His eyes flew open. "No has ever addressed me in that way."

Before she could respond, they were airborne and he was kissing her. She held on to him because nothing else was stable. Between the kissing and the flying, Olivia was becoming dizzy. In the next moment, she felt solid ground below her and his body above her. His lips were on her neck, molding into her flesh. She opened her eyes and saw tall grass on all sides of them. He turned her head so their eyes met. "You want me to take your virginity and your humanity at the same time," he practically growled at her. "There's no going back if you consent."

Olivia flinched. There was a wild carnality in his eyes that she had never see before. It frightened her and aroused her at the same time. "You can't take what I am giving to you." The cloth of her pantalets ripped at the seam when he pulled at them. He rained kisses down her chest and torso stopping only to inhale her scent in a way he hadn't allowed himself in the last 7 months. The pleasure of her aroma blinded him. He bit her first on the inside of her thigh in the juncture between her leg and pelvis. She arched her back and dug her heel into the earth. The pain of the bite was overcome by waves of pleasure. He moved over her, settling between her thighs. She heard the echo of her own cry as he simultaneously sank his fangs into her neck and filled her core with his manhood.

* * *

"Fitzgerald?"

"Yes, darling."

"You should probably skip over the graphic parts…"

Olivia leaned forward to kiss him but stopped within inches of his lips. "I think I want you to bite me down there again."

Something flickered in his eyes which she knew meant, 'yes.'

Three swift knocks at the door filled her with anger. They were both at the door at the same time. Fitzgerald looked through the peep hole.

"Who is it?"

"It's your friend, Stacia, from the museum."

"What? I told her not to come. I'm sorry. I called her."

"Olivia, you should go to the bedroom. She shouldn't see you. I'll take care of this, and then we must leave."

"Okay," Olivia kissed him on the cheek and disappeared behind the door of the bedroom.

"My dear, Olivia, you are a sight for sore eyes. I know you don't know me, but I am Maya, your mother. Whatever that monster has told you is a lie. You must come with me at once. Byron is downstairs waiting for us."

Olivia turned around. She was frozen with shock. In this life as in every life since her first one, she had been orphaned or adopted. Seeing her mother disarmed her, giving Maya the upper hand. She didn't have to use her powers because Olivia fainted. Maya scooped her up and absconded with her out of the window.

* * *

**This story is turning out to be more than I was trying to make it. :-| Once I start writing, it won't let me go...so I had to stop it here for now. As always, thanks to those who send a note. You are my fuel. More to come...**


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